Trick or Treasure?
by Talking to my muffin
Summary: Sherlock and John need to spend a few nights in an abandoned house in order to catch a thief who stole precious porcelain. But being there things turn out very differently and finally they get onto a cleverly planned fraud... Slight Johnlock. No slash
1. 1 The missing porcelain

**_Hey! :) This is my second Sherlock fanfiction and this time I'll try writing an actual crime story. It's inspired by "The empty house" and "The man with the twisted lip" by Arthur Conan Doyle. _**

**_I hope you find it interesting! In later chapters there's gonna be some Johnlock stuff, too, but no slash. _**

**_Please excuse occasional mistakes, I'm not a native speaker._**

**_As usual, I own none of the characters._**

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Chapter 1

**The missing porcelain**

The message was a relief. At least for John.

_Could you meet me at the Yard in about half an hour? There's a new case for you._

_It's about the robbery at the house of the Hallings family._ GL

After weeks of boredom, fed by an extraordinary peaceful and murderless November in London, finally there was something to stop Sherlock's endless crave for anything to do, which he tried to drive away by doing absolutely stupid things to pass the time. Which by and by drove John mad.

Therefore he could not suppress an exaggerated cry of joy, when Sherlock read the message out to him, while they were both sitting in front of the fire in their room at Baker Street.

„Yeah! Finally there it is! Let's take a cab at once!"

Sherlock studied the message contemplatively.

„No", he murmured then.

John gazed at him in disbelief: „'No?' What? You're not going to take the case."

Sherlock rolled his eyes: „Seriously, John. What is there to misunderstand about the word 'No!'?"

John leant forward and focused Sherlock sternly.

„'No!' is not an option for you, Sherlock. Your eternal boredom is totally bugging me! You get to the Yard within the next 30 minutes, or I'm going to tell the whole London Police department to come here!"

This one did work. Sherlock gave him the most killing glance he was able to give, but at least he arose from his chair and walked over to the coat rack.

„So what is it about this case you don't like?", John asked him.

„It's solution is totally obvious, John, that's what I don't like." Sherlock said when he came back into the room, already wearing his long deep-black coat.

„A family inherits a big fortune in form of Japanese porcelain, but by will they are unauthorized to sell it. Now they allege that it had been stolen, so that they can get money from the insurance, which has been effected by the former owner in case of robbery. This is not very clever and at any rate not worth wasting my time."

„You've been wasting your time for almost 3 weeks now, what harm could some more days do? Anyway, is there any evidence for your suspicion?", John asked.

„Well not yet, but criminals always make mistakes."

„So it's your job to find those. Come on, Sherlock, do it for me. For my stressed nerves. I'm getting bored, too."

„But it's not even been a murder yet!", Sherlock complained.

John sighed. This was so typical. Sherlock was sitting here waiting for weeks, craving for any case at all and now, when there was one for him to solve, it wasn't interesting enough. That man really was unbearable sometimes.

„Does there always have to be a murder first to attract your attention? You really are kinda cold-hearted sometimes."

„I've been told so.", Sherlock replied. „But in my job it's more helpful to be unemotional, emotions make you blind."

„Well, I'd say the make you see", said John. „See behind the facade of a person."

Sherlock shook his head. „You see nothing, John. That's why I'm the detective. You just think you understand, but I observe and make my deductions. And you must admit I most seldomly fail. I'm doing perfectly fine without emotions."

This hurt a bit, but John immediately shook off the anger. This was one of Sherlock's uncomfortable features, but he had learned to live with it.

Sherlock stood in the doorway waiting.

„Will you accompany me now or not?", he asked, still a bit testy.

John jumped up at once. „Sure, let's go."

* * *

The office at the Yard was crowded as usual. People running around with their mobile phone in one and a pile of files in the other hand, trying to get the permanently raising flood of Londons daily crime issues under control.

Police work in this city really was a back-breaking job and John was happy that he and Sherlock were able to choose which cases to take, so they could pick only the ones that were interesting to them.

They found Lestrade in his office, looking totally exhausted. Paper stacking up on the desk in front of him next to 3 empty cups that probably had contained strong coffee once. It obviously had been a long night.

His mood lit up a bit when he recognised the detective entering his office.

„Ah, there you are. Oh, hello John! I'm really glad you came. As you can see I'm not lacking work at the moment. All these weeks almost without anything happening and now the whole city seems to have gone crazy within days. I assume it's the weather. People get bored, so they commit crimes. It's really a..."

„Well, ok, fine. Thank you for that load of interesting information about the case.", Sherlock interrupted him impatiently sarcastic. „Is there anything more to come?"

Lestrade opened his mouth indignantly, but then he only said: „Anyway, you probably read about the case in the papers. It's about the Hallings family, the grandfather of the family bequested his porcelain collection to his daughter and her husband, they..."

„Yes I did read about it in the papers. Please continue with something interesting now!"

„Alright then.", Lestrade said jaded. „Some new information: Some of the stolen vases have been found this morning in the attic of an abandoned house near Hide Park. We assume this house might be the place where the thieves store their prey and for the information about the find has not left our offices yet, we are led to believe that they will return to the place soon and you are supposed to catch them in the act."

„This is all I wanted to know", Sherlock said with a tiny smile, then he frowned. „So you expect me to wait there for the thieves?"

„Actually yes", Lestrade answered.

„But it may take days for them to come back. Or maybe they did hear about the find, because your people are as unreliable as usual, and they are miles away by now. By the way, who did actually find the vases?"

„A homeless man, who looked for a place to sleep. He was stopped by a passing officer when he tried to throw them out of the window. He said the ornaments would 'scare him out of his guts' and affirmed that the vases hadn't been there the day before. I think he's a bit loony, but he couldn't tell us anything more, so we released him after a short conversation. I promise you, he won't tell anybody. He didn't even remember his whole name. After some minutes of talking he thought I was his old history teacher, who took a magic potion to become younger.", Lestrade told Sherlock in amusement.

Sherlock seemed to think about what Lestrade had just said. Then he nodded.

„Ok, I'll do it. I probably will have to stay there day and night, won't I?"

„I think it would be best if you did so.", Lestrade answered. „Well maybe you and John could take turns."

John, who had been quietly listening up to now, suddenly stirred.

„What's that to do with me? I got work to do!"

Sherlock turned around and looked at him with that knowing-look John hated so much.

„Come on, you just told me you were bored, too. This is going to be an interesting case, I know you can't wait for it."

John gave in. Actually Sherlock was right, he couldn't wait for a new adventure to come. And spending some nights in an emtpy house waiting for a crime to happen did seem to be one.

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_**Thanks for reading! I'd be happy about some nice reviews. I'd be happy about critical ones, too. ;)**_


	2. The House of Horror

Chapter 2

**The House of Horror**

Back at Bakerstreet they both began to pack their bags. It wasn't much they needed, but in case this was going to take some days, it surely wasn't wrong to take some basic equipment with them.

John threw some clean jumpers, two pairs of jeans and all the socks he could find into a small bag. November in London wasn't that cold, but he would certainly catch a cold if he slept in an unheated house without warm clothing at this time of the year.

After some more minutes he was finished with packing.

When he entered Sherlocks room he found the detective pondering in front of his open wardrobe and a huge suitcase laying open on the floor.

„What do you need that for?", John asked and touched the luggage with his foot. „This won't be an around-the-world-trip, Sherlock, you're only going to spend a few nights somewhere else. No need to take all your goods and chattels with you."

Sherlock looked at him without understanding. „So what exactly shall I take with me then?", he asked.

„Well, the things you need. Some clean clothing, your toothbrush, a pillow, a sleeping-bag. Have you never been on a sleepover-party?"

Sherlock's facial expression told him that he hadn't. „I don't have a sleeping-bag."

„Sure, in your childhood you always blew up the party with your experiments, so there was no one left to sleep there.", John said ironically.

Somehow this did hurt Sherlock, at least he looked even more desperate than before.

„Fine, we can stop at an Outdoor-shop and buy you a sleeping-bag before we start.", John said conciliatorily. „Just get the rest of your stuff, I'll wait for you downstairs."

* * *

Buying a sleeping-bag for Sherlock had been easier said than done. Sherlock insisted on testing every single one available in the shop, which almost drove the shop assistant mad and made John feel, to say the least, very uncomfortable.

After almost an hour they left the store with a dark-blue thermo outdoor sleeping-bag, and John had the feeling that this 'adventure' was to be a very nerves-straining one.

Sherlock had received another message from Lestrade, who told him to come back to the Yard first to take a look at the stolen vases that had been brought there.

Both packed with their bags and outdoor-equipment they naturally attracted the attention of all the officers in duty when they followed Lestrade down a couple of stairs into the very heart of the London Police Department.

The vases were stored in a locked room, which, to John's estimation, was situated about 2 levels subterranean. He was really surprised to find that they were at least one metre tall and they seemed to be very heavy.

This probably also had been Sherlock's first impression, for he walked over to the smallest of the vases and tried to lift it up on his own. He failed. After a few more unsuccessful attempts he leant against the wall and gasped.

„So there must have been more than one person, right?", Lestrade asked.

„Obviously.", Sherlock replied.

„I wonder who would ever try to steal those things. Or even try to sell them legally. I mean, they're not very pretty, are they? Not very artistic." John said pondering.

„Also the porcelain is not exactly unblemished. See the split-off at the bottom? Whoever stole that was not really aware of it's worth. Or didn't care about it."

Sherlock looked at him in surprise. „Very good, John. You're almost about to observe what you've barely seen before."

John wasn't able to completely suppress a smile. Getting a compliment from Sherlock always made him feel kind of – special.

Sherlock moved away from the wall and walked over to the door.

„Well, there's more than one thing that's strange about this case. I think I'm going to amuse myself very well. We're now gonna start our little trip to the 'House-of-Horror'. I'll be back in a few days. With the thief, respectively: thieves. Bye!"

Then he was out.

Lestrade frowned and looked at John. „Sometimes I got the feeling, he's merely playing a game, not doing his work. One day this is gonna end badly."

„Well, in my opinion, it's better to be the player than the figure, right?", John replied, then he hurried after Sherlock, leaving Lestrade cluelessly pondering about his words.

* * *

The 'House-of-Horror' turned out to be an abandoned villa, probably build in the fifties. The whole style could be described as 'passionlessly vintage'. A tired attempt to build something fitting into the decades charm, but not being able to finish it before the style became old-fashioned and therefore leaving it in half ruins.

It must have been abandoned for at least 20 years. The whole western facade was rank with ivy, which also covered all of the windows in that part of the house. On the opposite side a huge chimney rose towards the sky, higher than the house itself.

The little garden in front of it was chaotically overgrown with weed and looked as if it had become a popular public rubbish dump. There was barely a spot where you didn't step into paper bags or glass-splinters.

In brief: the perfect place to store precious things that everybody else would certainly identify as rubbish.

Sherlock was the first one entering the house. The front door wasn't locked. The main reason therefore probably was the fact that the door didn't exist. The entry was only half-heartedly planked with various parts of what might once have been a table and it had been broke open, probably by the homeless man the day before.

With a kick Sherlock removed the last leftover parts of the 'door' and stepped inside.

„Thanks very much for that, Sherlock.", John murmured following him. „Now we'll have the wind in here all the time. I certainly don't have to remind you that we'll have no heating at all."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. „Really, I appreciate your new skills of observation, John, but the trick is to observe what's hidden and not what's clearly obvious to all others.

After all, you are wrong", he added and pointed towards a tiled stove in the room to their left.

„I'm not sure, if we're supposed to use that. It looks as if it could blow up every minute.", John said in worried mood.

„Seriously, how can a tilted stove blow up? The least that may happen is that it doesn't work, but I'm pretty sure even in this case there's a fireplace somewhere in the house. Otherwise I don't see the use of this gigantic chimney."

_Observe, don't just look_, John remembered. But on the other hand the chimney was of course perfectly obvious to see for everyone.

They decided to take a look at the rest of the house first, before trying to light the tilted stove. On the second floor the house did resemble more to the one's in horror movies.

There was a small bathroom that contained a shattered basin and a bath tub with a huge hole in the middle. The rest of the furniture was missing.

There were two more rooms, which very completely empty apart from a dusted mirror in one and one single wooden drawer in the other one of them.

The third room had probably been a childs bedroom once, you could tell that from the colourful wallpaper. There was also an empty wardrobe without doors, a smashed cupboard and a small bed, with a scary looking doll in it.

„Uuuh, this really is the 'House of Horror'. I bet tonight Chucky will come to life and kill us with his knife." John rhymed sarcastically.

Sherlock smiled, even if John was sure that he didn't understand the allusion.

The last room on that floor was the one that had obviously been used by the homeless man, because his blanket and a pair of shoes were still lying there on the floor. Also there was the expected fireplace, but it was tiny.

After inspecting that room as well, Sherlock closed the door again.

„So which one shall we take?", John asked.

Sherlock thought about it for a moment. „None of those. We're staying downstairs. It's much more comfortable and we can trap the thief, if he comes back. Also, in case it gets dangerous, we can escape faster."

„You're really making that an option?", John asked in surprise.

Sherlock grinned. „No, of course not."

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_**Thanks for reading! :) Please let me know what you think!** _


	3. Awake

_**Hey :) So here is chapter 3, I hope you like it. As usual, I still own nothing but my own fantasy.**_

_**If you find any spelling mistakes, you can keep them. ;)**_

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Chapter 3

**Awake**

Trying to light the tiled stove was completely hopeless. After the fifth failed attempt Sherlock got really angry and threw the box of matches at John, who thereupon shouted at him that it was Sherlock's fault that it was so cold in here, because he had broken the „door".

After a short quarrel they decided to look for another fireplace on the ground floor.

They found one in what seemed to have been some kind of drawing room once. There was an old sofa, which looked as if it was about to rupture beneath the first one trying to sit on it, and behind a pile of old shoe boxes in a corner, they found the fireplace.

It was as tiny as the other one on the upper floor and also there was an empty birds nest in it, but it looked as if it had been abandoned for years.

Sherlock tried to ignite the fire on the bird's nest (after John's slight protest that this was really impolite towards the birds), while John ripped some of the shoe boxes into pieces, so they could use them as burning material.

After some minutes the room was flooded with the reddish light and wonderful warmth of a sizzling fire.

Sherlock pulled the old sofa closer to the fireplace and slumped down onto it. The thing groaned and squeaked terribly and bowed almost down to the floor under his weight, but it did not fall apart. Sherlock tapped onto the place next to him to make John sit down.

For a while they both just sat side by side, stared into the fire and kept silent.

„What if they won't come back?", John asked after some minutes.

„Who?", Sherlock murmured, absorbed in thought.

„The heir and her husband." John answered. „Maybe they discovered that their vases are gone and now they gave up their whole plan."

Sherlock shook his head slowly.

„How can you be sure about that?", John asked, staring at Sherlock intensely.

„It would be pretty stupid. Even if they had discovered it, it would not really work against their plan." Sherlock said, still watching the fire.

John slowly got annoyed. „Come on, for Gods sake! You know something, I can see it in your eyes. Don't be so bloody mysterious all the time! If you want my help here, you have to tell me what you know!"

Sherlock suddenly turned his head and looked John in the eyes.

„You saw everything I saw, heard everything I heard. I'm not keeping anything from you! You yourself said at the Yard that there was something wrong with the vases, 'cause whoever stole them, did not treat them very carefully. And this does not fit into my theory. There are also other things that do not fit, but I don't fully understand what this means yet. I will tell you by the time I found it out."

As it darkened outside, Sherlock insisted on putting the fire out, for it was far to conspicuous.

They had closed the door to the hall up to a little gap, so they'd notice if anyone was sneaking around out there, but they were still protected from the wind.

Another problem was finding a place to sleep. In anticipation of something like a mattress or even a carpet in the house, they hadn't brought anything with them to put under their sleeping-bags, the floor, even if it was made of wood, was extremely hard and on the sofa there was only enough space for one of them.

„You can sleep on the sofa", Sherlock graciously offered. „One of us must keep watch during the night anyway."

John made Sherlock promise that he'd wake him up, if there was anybody in the house, then he wrapped himself into his sleeping-bag on the sofa and after some minutes his slow, quiet breathing confirmed he'd fallen asleep.

Sherlock sat down on his rolled up sleeping-bag and watched John for a while.

It was strange, but somehow Sherlock was glad to have John here with him. This was, of course, not because he was afraid of being alone in this empty house in the middle of the night. Sherlock hadn't even been afraid when he was a child and he'd been camping alone in the forest near their house for a week, because his parents had been on holiday and left him at home with his brother. (Of course, Sherlock hadn't been afraid of being alone with Mycroft as well, he just didn't like it, so he'd run away).

But this was something different. He didn't only like John's company, he actually couldn't imagine being on a case without him anymore. And somewhere deep inside him, Sherlock felt fear, the fear of John leaving him someday, getting married, moving away, working on regular base again. He just couldn't imagine going on without him. Not only to have someone to impress with his ingenious skills of deduction, but also a colleague, a friend... Sometimes Sherlock wondered if John was aware of how much he ment to him.

He left these thoughts behind him and tried to focus on the case. It was extraordinary from the very beginning. His original idea about the heir stealing the vases herself to get the money from the insurance was actually too simple. Only a really silly swindler would try such a totally obvious trick.

Also there were so many thing that disturbed him: The homeless man, the sudden re-appearance of the stolen porcelain (or of some of it), the careless way it had been treated by the thief... All these things did distract his original theory.

After all it seemed to become a much more interesting case than he'd assumed it to be in the beginning. Even if he couldn't tell exactly how, all over the story there were the traces of a really clever criminal playing his tricks.

* * *

Midnight passed. Sherlock sat as moveless as before, staring towards the door, waiting for the slightest movement, the least sound. Like a hungry tiger he sat there, not stirring, not blinking his eyes. His breath formed a thin haze in front of his mouth.

But nothing happened.

Suddenly he winced when the absolute silence was disturbed by various noises produced by John turning from one side to another on the sofa.

„John? John!", Sherlock whispered.

„Hrrrmm..whatsup?", John muttered with his eyes still closed.

„Nothing. Just wanted to know if you were awake.", Sherlock replied.

John yawned, then he opened his eyes slightly. „Well, thanks to you I'm awake now."

He peeled himself out of his sleeping-bag, only to crawl back into it seconds later.

„Hell, this is fuckin' North Pole! How can you just sit there without moving at all? Your gonna be frozen stiff by morning!"

„I'm fine."

„Don't be silly! I can see you shivering. At least slip into your sleeping-bag, don't just sit on it. We can also share the sofa, if you want.", John offered to him.

„No, it's alright.", Sherlock replied with perseverance, but he was indeed freezing.

John sat up on the sofa and pointed his finger directly at him. „Sherlock Holmes, you will put something warm on now, or I will force you to! I don't want this whole thing to be ruined by you getting ill because of your obstinacy!"

John had learned that sometimes this military-like tone was the only way to make Sherlock obey to him sometimes. Fortunately he'd developed quite a talent for giving orders during his time in the army.

Grudgingly grousing, Sherlock stood up, opened his sleeping-bag and slipped into it. Then, still standing on his feet, he hopped over to the sofa and with a short gesticulation directed John to move.

Seconds later they sat side by side again, just like they had been sitting in the afternoon, only now there was no fire, no light, no warmth. And still not a sound from the hall.

After about half an hour John's head sank onto Sherlock's shoulder. He'd fallen asleep again. After another 20 minutes his head had sunken further down until it came to rest onto Sherlock's lap.

That was uncomfortable. Not only that Sherlock wasn't able to move anymore.

It also made him feel peculiar in some way. Even if there was still the sleeping-bag between them. He couldn't remember that anyone had ever been that close to him, not even in his childhood, and strangely he was glad it was John and not some woman. Maybe he really was gay, just like everybody always assumed. Actually he'd never even thought about it. He didn't want or need a relationship, neither with a woman nor with a man, so why wasting a thought about his sexual orientation? But now he had John, who was his friend, not his boyfriend, but still they had some kind of a relationship and Sherlock couldn't understand why he suddenly did care about somebody. Suddenly there was another human being that mattered to him. This was confusing, because it confronted him with completely new problems. Like love, for example.

He'd never been in love in his life, so how could he tell the difference then? If what he felt towards John actually was love, then people told him total fairy tales about falling in love. Like the one about butterflies in one's stomach or writing love letters. He'd always thought that this was stupid and he did maintain this opinion, but how could he find out? Sherlock had to admit that for the first time he didn't have the faintest idea.

He didn't want to wake John up, didn't want him to awake in a position that might be embarrassing for him, so he kept sitting moveless but extremely attentive. And waited for the night to pass.

* * *

When John woke up in the morning, the room was filled with the flickering light of a fire again. It was warm, quiet and Sherlock was gone.

John only remembered sitting next to him the night before and then he'd fallen asleep somewhen. He hadn't noticed Sherlock leaving.

He found him upstairs in the room with the scary doll, the one that had been „inhabited" by the homeless man, crouching in front of the window and gazing into space. He looked like a statue, probably he was in his „Mind Palace" again.

„Sherlock?", John whispered not to scare him.

No reaction.

„I'm awake now", John tried again.

Without moving Sherlock said „I noticed that, otherwise you wouldn't be able to talk to me here."

„What are you doing here? Have you seen someone?"

„No", Sherlock murmured „I just wonder...". He stood up and walked closer towards the window until his nose did almost touch the glass.

„What?", John asked, who had followed him.

„Well, by time we'll know." Those were his last words, then he turned around and left the room.

John decided not to ask him about it anymore. Sherlock never told him about his conjectures until he was able to prove them.

He hurried downstairs after him.

„Do you have anything to eat?", he heard Sherlock ask.

„Yeah, there's some toast and bananas in my bag. Look, why don't you lie down and rest for some time and I try to make us something similar to a breakfast? You've obviously been up the whole night.", John recommended.

Sherlock shook his head. „I have to make some phone calls. I need to know some more about this strange family with the preference for ugly vases. I got the feeling, we missed something."

* * *

_**Please let me know what you think, write a review! ;)**_


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